Wandering Blindfold

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1879 edition. Excerpt: ... CHAPTER XI. WAS IT TOO LATE? IS too late! I can never do it! I shall never see 'em again! Oh, mother! oh, Emmy! I must die here, though I pray so earnest I felt as if God must hear me!" So moaned Robert to himself as, next day, he suddenly gave up the struggle, and dropped down helplessly on the first door-step. "You can't stay here, boy; you must go home," said a voice, and there stood another policeman, who added decidedly that he must "move on." The boy staggered to his feet, but, instead of "moving on," he gave one searching look at the man with his woe-begone eyes, then grasped his arm, and uttered an excited cry, "Oh, Charlie! Charlie!" "Who is it? Not Robert Watson, surely. Oh, Bobby, it is you!" cried the young policeman (who a year since had left the village where Robert had been born to come to London). "Yes, I'm Robert. And, oh! Charlie, I'm too ill now to get home, as I meant to do. If I could have kissed mother and Emmy once more, I shouldn't have minded dying. Will you tell 'em about me, and give father my love, too, and all the others?" The young man's voice was husky as he replied, "I'll do more than that, I hope. I've heard all about you running away when I went down home last month. Why they've been doing everything they could think of to find you. But cheer up, my boy; by this time to-morrow you'll be with 'em all again." "But I can't walk. I'm ill now," said Robert feebly. In his weak state it had shaken him from head to foot to meet this friend who came from near his own home, and to be able to send a last message to his mother. "You're about starving--that's what you are, I expect; but we'll soon get you round," said Charlie encouragingly. "A night's rest and a good supper '11 do wonders. See, I've got money, and...